


Growing Pains

by shadows_of_the_force



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Growing Pains, Oneshot, i guess?, sort of hurt/comfort?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:35:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadows_of_the_force/pseuds/shadows_of_the_force
Summary: For the JediFest AlienApril prompt, "Hera gets a custom flight helmet."An adolescent Hera struggles with the unique challenges of her developing alien anatomy. Chopper does his best to help.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/gifts).



**A** light cargo ship settles into the quiet spaceport of a nearly forgotten moon, pilot and hydraulic systems sighing in unison. The sole occupant of the shuttle - an adolescent Twi'lek girl with oil-stained hands and tired eyes - checks the systems one last time before scurrying down the boarding ramp to the landing pad below. Her pilot's garb hangs loosely from her slight, pale green frame, the tatters of her sleeves fluttering behind her as she runs.  An orange astromech unit waits for her at the base of the ramp, warbling away his frustration at having been left behind on her latest supply run.

     "...I missed you too, Chop," Hera laughs, offering the droid an apologetic grin.  Her voice has not yet fully adjusted since leaving her homeworld; it is still rich with the undertones of a thick Rylothian accent, and she is as of yet unaccustomed to the Basic tongue.

     A smug warble from the droid; _I told you so. I knew you would need my help._

     "Perhaps," she admits, "although you know you never would have made it past the Empire's new scanners undetected.  They've really cracked down on security."

     With the mention of the Empire, Chopper seems to mutter to himself in frustration, his servos practically clicking in irritation.  Hera pats the droid soothingly and perhaps a little fondly, then settles herself gingerly onto a nearby supply crate. The adrenaline is beginning to fade from her system now, her body becoming heavier and heavier with exhaustion. Perhaps, in the heat of the moment, she simply didn't allow herself to notice. But now... she is so very sore, she realizes suddenly, and her _lekku_... her lekku are positively _throbbing_.

      _Uh oh._ Hera swallows hard on the panic rising in her throat, reminds herself to breathe. _Oh, this is not good._ The very universe seems to fade in and out of focus with each blink of her eyelids, keeping tempo with the harsh pounding rising in her temples, the throbbing in her aching head tails.   _Focus_ _._   She remembers seeing wounded soldiers during her time on Ryloth, the way even the most hardened of her father's men would scream in agony whenever they injured one of their lekku.  And suddenly, she _understands -_ the pain in her head is building, making concentration difficult.  She takes a deep breath, finds a temporary second of clarity.   _I have to get this helmet off._

    Hera winces as she struggles to remove her flight helmet, her nimble fingers working hastily to unwrap the thick layers of protective cloth surrounding each head tail. A gasp escapes her lips as she realizes the extent of the bruising; dark purple splotches blossom with pain beneath the gentle pressure of her fingertips, blooming across her lekku in the distinct pattern of the flight helmet's interior.  Not a helmet designed for the anatomy of a Twi'lek - those were far too hard to find in this part of the galaxy - but a standard-issue humanoid helmet.  In her youth, it hadn't been too hard to slip an oversized flight helmet over both of her lekku, provided that she used a binding, protective wrap on them first; but now, at sixteen standard, with Hera's lekku just beginning their adolescent growth cycle, the sensitive appendages were quite swollen, and tender besides.

    And it was true; sometime over the course of the last few months, her head tails had lengthened considerably.  The tips of her head tails now brushed ever-so-slightly across the top of her slender shoulders, peeking out from beneath her flight helmet where they used to hide.  She wasn't _supposed_ to cover them in this way, she knew, but her new piloting job left her little choice, as her bosses often demanded that she be accessible via helmet-to-helmet com at all times.  Besides, the young Twi'lek was more than aware of the way that women of her species were perceived across the galaxy, and it was the best way she knew to make herself feel more safe from any unwelcome advances or prying eyes.

   Normally, she enjoyed the extra protection the helmet afforded her, but now... Hera picks up the offending object and flings it across the hangar, causing Chopper to squeal in alarm.  The helmet clangs as it rolls across the metal spaceport floor.  As Hera watches it, she feels herself falling forward with it, falling, _falling_... 

* * *

 

    **W** hen Hera awakens, she is laying on a makeshift cot in a dark, cluttered room.  Various droid parts litter the many shelves, spilling onto the floors; the scents of oil and antiseptic alike hang heavy in the air, making the place smell like a medbay and a mechanic shop all at once. Panic seizes her ever so briefly as she tries to place her surroundings; through the thick fog of medication wrapping itself around her consciousness, she eventually brings herself to remember.   _My lekku.  The hangar bay.  The helmet..._. Almost absentmindedly, she raises a hand to touch an injured appendage, her fingers dancing away with a start as they meet the rough cloth of bandages rather than the cool of her skin.   _I must have lost_ _consciousness in the hangar, and Chopper... Chopper must have..._

    "Chopper?" Hera calls softly, as she slowly brings herself to sit.  As she quickly scans the room, her eyes catch a movement behind one of the shelves.  Hera watches, transfixed, as a tall, slender figure steps out of the shadows, its large and very pale eyes glowing ominously in the dark.  As it nears her position on the cot, she recognizes the figure to be some sort of droid; she can hear the faint hum of machinery as it makes its way near her.

    "Your astromech friend left some time ago."  The smooth mechanical voice sounds through the chambers, catching Hera off-guard.  She turns with a start, heartbeat rising quickly in her throat, quelling the urge to run.  

    "He was quite insistent that I should take good care of you," the droid continues, the lights on its vocoder box rising and falling soothingly with the sound of its voice, "not that my programming would have allowed me to act any differently."

    "Your programming?"

    "Why, yes," the droid responds, "I am programmed with the capability to practice medical treatment on over ten-thousand species of life-forms, as well as the care and maintenance of various mechanical systems."

     _A medical droid.  Of course._ Hera feels herself relax slightly, although the same question still burns at the forefront of her mind.

_"Where's Chopper?"_

* * *

 

    **C** hopper swerved his way through the busy intergalactic marketplace, Hera's discarded flight helmet tight in claw.  Upon realizing that he has reached his destination - a flight shop claiming to specialize in apparel designed for various alien species - the little droid careens sharply in a haphazard path toward the shop's entrance, knocking several pedestrians aside with reckless abandon.

    Tempers flare quickly amid the resulting chaos, sending the crowd outside into an angry frenzy.  Curses and insults fly in dozens of alien tongues, inciting the mob to the brink of violence; somewhere deep in the crowd, someone draws a blaster.  The shop owner, a burly Besalisk, notices the commotion near his store's entrance, and, seeking to avoid any sort of _mess_ , he rushes to intervene.  The weight of his footsteps alone seemed to be deterrence enough for most, as the crowd near the entrance parts and scatters to reveal one very flustered, but determined, astromech droid.

   "Well, what have we here?" a rough voice chortles, as the massive shopkeeper bends down to peer at the tiny instigator of the short-lived brawl.  The enormous alien's wide lips quirk upward with gentle bemusement as he studies the culprit, who shudders and warbles anxiously in the Besalisk's overwhelming presence.

   A warbling, sad-sounding reply echoes from the little droid, eliciting a solemn nod from the shopkeeper.

  "You say you can find a way to pay for it, eh?  ...I guess I'll see what I can do."

* * *

 

    **I** t is nearing nightfall when Hera hears Chopper's familiar sound outside the makeshift medbay doors, the little droid warbling triumphantly as he proudly offers her - _her old flight helmet?_

 _No,_ she thinks,  _something has changed._   Where before, there had only been solid plastoid, there were now soft, branching sleeves.   _For my lekku_ , Hera realizes abruptly.  Her heart swells with gratitude as she takes the gift from Chopper's outstretched claw, a smile growing bright upon her green-hued features.

    "...Thank you, my friend."

 

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry that this is a bit late! I've had a heck of a week :(


End file.
